


A pajama party sans pajamas

by Frozen_Melon



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frozen_Melon/pseuds/Frozen_Melon
Summary: A party goes not the way Solomon expected, and certainly not the way Asmo likes. It's time to fix it.
Relationships: Asmodeus & Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus/Solomon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Kudos: 32





	A pajama party sans pajamas

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Беспижамная вечеринка](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25342171) by [fandom Obey Me 2020 (fandom_Obey_Me_and_Mobile_Games)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fandom_Obey_Me_and_Mobile_Games/pseuds/fandom%20Obey%20Me%202020), [Frozen_Melon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frozen_Melon/pseuds/Frozen_Melon). 



> The original work was written for Fandom Kombat 2020, a Russian multifandom team challenge which includes fan fiction, arts, collage/manip, crafts and many more types of fan works, even cooking~  
> The anonimous plotbunny (from holywarsoo.net forum) I used is in fact also mine :3  
> Translated for #Asmocember

“You aren’t even trying to conceal the fact you have your own interest in this, are you, Solomon?” Lucifer asked in an unwaveringly firm voice, despite looking awfully worn out. The circles under Lucifer’s eyes grew larger and darker than the last time Solomon saw him, but his gaze was as piercing as ever.

“Rather than attempting to deceive two strongest demons of the Devildom, wouldn’t it be wiser to disarm you by this display of trust?” Solomon raised his eyebrows, demonstrating deliberate innocence. “Also, you are quite right: I have my own interest, but this is just an additional objective. Two of those, to be exact. And neither of them is harmful to the Devildom. You have my word.”

Lucifer clearly had his own opinion on this, but he wasn’t given a chance to voice it as lord Diavolo laughed heartily, almost clapping his hands in sudden joy.

“Why, Lucifer, what’s wrong with attending a party once in a while? Studying hard is, ha-ha, hard enough, everyone gotta have fun every once in a while!”

Solomon was well aware of how exactly hard Asmo usually took his studies (actually, Asmo’s name and the words “hard work” should never meet in a same sentence again, Solomon thought to himself), and Lucifer clearly knew that better that anyone else. The Avatar of Pride flinched, gritting his teeth so tight that Solomon kind of worried about their structural integrity... almost. Lucifer’s dark red eyes were burning with anger, but he could never contradict his lord in the presence of an outsider. Ah, what a splendid sight.

“It’s not just that...” Lucifer began, having subdued his inappropriate emotions but was interrupted by lord Diavolo right away.

“Trust is a rare commodity this days, especially between our two peoples, rare and precious. So let’s not ask for details, relying on Solomon’s word and good will instead. You said no direct or indirect harm to Devildom and any individual demons, right?”

“No harm that I am able to foresee,” Solomon felt the need to point this out. Yes, this might have been a bit too pedantic of him, but you gotta be attentive in every detail and choose your words carefully when dealing with demons, as you definitely don’t want to find yourself responsible for something you didn’t mean to.

“And I’ll look after Asmo,” he added personally for Lucifer.

***

The hotel sure looked... unique. It consisted of three spiral-shaped towers, all smooth, glassy and futuristic, each of them resembling... either a shark egg or a DNA spiral, Solomon couldn’t really decide. At the base, the stylobate part of the building was the same smooth and twisted shape which could not be easily described in definitions he was familiar with. Ah, that modern architecture — you can never be sure if you like it or not, but it’s hard to be indifferent to it.

There also was a river, and even more buildings in the same smooth and futuristic style across it, connected to the hotel with a Möbius loop-shaped bridge. The city’s newest business district.

“Wow, it looks like a nice set of deluxe sex toys,” Asmo giggled, eying the hotel towers with shameless curiosity. Well, Solomon couldn’t blame him: the shiny glass building was indeed rather hypnotizing, especially in bright sunlight. “But I thought witches preferred a different aesthetic, eh?”

“You thought they usually throw parties in gloomy neogothic cathedrals, preferably operational? Or even better, a forest hut in the middle of an impassable forest, beside a deadly swamp? Oh, that depends on how much the particular coven is interested in... showing off.”

“And this one is...”

“... not that much.”

“Why?” Asmo asked absent-mindedly, not paying much attention. Apparently, he still was mesmerized by the shining glass splendor, which they were now approaching.

“Dunno. Maybe they don’t feel like they need to make an impression because they have already built a solid reputation among other covens. Also, how exactly do you imagine the accommodation of two hundreds of people — both humans and demons — in authentic forest huts? This would require building a whole village, putting the water and electricity, and let’s not forget cell tower and broadband Internet... Also, a catering service would not be easily available there, so you’ll need a lot of portals to provide food and drinks. You sure wouldn’t want to stay at a place that offers a bucket and a barrel of cold water for facilities. Of course, everyone knows the basic spells for water heating, but...”

Asmo grimaced, clearly not happy with the idea. Of course, the pretty, shiny, state-of-the-art hotel was waaay better.

Indeed, there was everything one can think of needing in the large atrium taking the whole stylobate. Anything from shops and boutiques to an Internet culture museum (Solomon knew already they had a secret door hidden behind the whimsical collection of curiosities, memes and net legends; a door leading to a library containing books of magic so ancient and powerful that they couldn’t be digitized; exactly the type of sense of humor he would expect from the coven which owned the building), from a fitness center with gyms, swimming pools and and an ice rink to a food court with every possible cuisine of the world (or rather, all three worlds, as Solomon strongly suspected).

And Asmo, of course, had to visit every single one of these fantastic, amazing, wonderful, splendid places, preferably at the same time. It took time and effort to actually get him to the hotel’s reception area. Good thing that Asmo only had one suitcase with him, full of clothes, cosmetics and other absolutely essential necessities; Solomon had personally sorted his things before they left, mercilessly throwing away half of what Asmo originally planned to bring along. Knowing Asmo quite well, Solomon preferred his demon to have at least one free hand to be dragged by.

An elderly wizard at reception scanned their invisible to human eye pact seal with a spell and gave a shallow bow: of course, having seventy-two demons under his control meant Solomon was to be respected, and bringing along one of the seven rulers of Hell must have added to the impression.

Well, this party was not just for anybody off the street. Even for a distinguished sorcerer like Solomon, it was not that easy to get an invitation.

As soon as they were in their room, Solomon fell down onto a king-size bed, carelessly shaking his shoes off as he sprawled across it. He would certainly prefer to take a nap before the party, but there was something requiring his immediate attention.

Asmo, however, seemed as enthusiastic as ever, circling the room like a pink tornado of pure curiosity and joy. He liked everything he saw, so naturally he wanted to take a picture of every little thing — from the cute floral pattern on the towels to the marvelous view opening from the windows. On this one, Solomon actually agreed with him: the cityscape was truly impressive. Neon nightlife attractions (somehow glowing even now, in broad daylight), business blocks of glass and concrete, shiny golden domes of churches and sky-piercing sharp spires of cathedrals, deliberately cute gingerbread-like houses of older public estates, seemingly decorated this way only to serve as tourist attractions... the city was a whimsical fusion of all of these and more.

Solomon shook off his weariness the same way he had dealt with shoes before. No time to rest. He took his laptop from its bag and plugged the power adapter into an outlet. He’ll catch up on sleep later.

Solomon was fairly certain the room had to be bugged. The real question was if there were only magical bugs or both magical and technical ones. No matter, he was prepared for both variations. “Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic,” as they say; and vice versa.

“Solomon,” Asmo called for him from the doorway leading to the bathroom. His voice had that usual mischievous and naughty tone that one could not help liking. “Do you have to bury your nose in the computer right now? Let’s take a dip instead!”

Indeed, the bathtub must have been large enough for two, the water was already running, and large, glistening invitingly soap bubbles were floating in the air behind Asmo’s back.

“Yeah, you go,” Solomon waved him off, immediately regretting this dismissive tone and letting out an apologetic smile as Asmo’s grin turned into a pout. This must have satisfied the playful demon enough as his expression brightened again; Solomon heard the water splashing when Asmo got into the tub, leaving the door open. But of course. What else would one expect from the Avatar of Lust?

Solomon plopped back onto the bed, not bothering to remove the covers, and went back to configuring his listening spells detection program, sometimes inserting a word or two to maintain a dialogue with Asmo (or rather, Asmo’s monologue). No ill feelings here; Asmo was in that mode when he didn’t care if anyone actually paid attention to what he babbled about, just listening to his voice with the right level of acceptance and support was enough.

The bed was just right, too. Solomon’s standards weren’t really that high, but he knew for sure that even Asmo’s pretentious taste would be more than satisfied. Of course, he had booked a room with a double bed; this was only natural. The fact that most witches and wizards used their demon pact partners for sex... or for love, was never a secret. This kind of... bonding was not frowned upon, regardless of participants’ gender; in fact, it was expected even if one’s demonic partner was not a Lust demon, let alone the Avatar of Lust himself.

“Solomon, what’s taking you so long?” Asmo called again, having apparently had enough talking to (and probably about) himself.

“Our security,” Solomon replied eagerly, turning the laptop off. “I’ve neutralized two listening spells and a technomagical bug.”

“I hope whoever installed them had enough time to enjoy my lovely voice,” Asmo replied non-ironically. “But wouldn’t they suspect us now that they know you know about the bugs?”

“Quite the opposite. Now they are aware we’re their equals, not just random people,” Solomon smiled, standing up and stretching his muscles, not really sleepy anymore after all the counterspying work. He went to the bathroom and squatted down next to the tub, so their eyes were at the same level. Asmo’s honey and caramel eyes were as lively as ever, shining with curiosity and anticipation so joyful and sincere that Solomon couldn’t help smiling back.

Even though the issue he wanted to bring to Asmo’s attention was rather serious.

“So they are to think you’ve disabled all that stuff so we can have some fun privately, right?” Asmo suggested, eyes gleaming provocatively. “So how about we fulfill their expectations right now?”

Yeah, about that. Exactly.

“Listen, Asmo,” Solomon tried to sound nice and caring but very firm. “We didn’t come all the way here to have fun. Well, I mean, you can have all the fun you want, but I have a job to do. Actually, two jobs, but this shouldn’t concern you. I’m planning to meet some people, make some contacts, get some information... Meaning that I will not be able to follow you around all the time.”

“Yay, fun! Let’s have fun!” Asmo giggled, as always, having heard only what he wanted to hear, hugging Solomon with wet and soapy hands.

His joy was so lively, so warm and contagious. Solomon patted Asmo’s head affectionately, getting splashed again. Unlike Asmo, he didn’t bring a spare suit, but it was fine: thinking up a drying spell on the go shouldn’t present a significant challenge for a sorcerer like him. But there was something else...

“Actually, I’d like to bring up another issue,” Solomon began, not really hoping to be heard or understood. In fact, he wasn’t even fully understanding it himself. “You see, it’s kind of weird to haul a sentient being around like a fancy accessory. You know, like one of those handbag dogs you can carry in a purse.”

Asmo gave him a quizzical look.

“Ah, never mind,” Solomon cut himself off with a sigh. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought it up. Probably, no, clearly he shouldn’t.

“No, tell me. I can see you are worried.” Asmo was suddenly serious, as if someone flipped a switch.

“Mmhmm,” Solomon ran his fingers through Asmo’s hair again while struggling to choose right words. The humidity made the demon’s wavy locks curl more, and while he was noticeably enjoying the soft caressing touch the look in his eyes remained uncharacteristically serious.

Just how to put it?

“Well, you are something more to me than just a pretty face and one of the most powerful demons of the Devildom,” Solomon wasn’t sure these were the right words, but he didn’t have any other ones. “It feels wrong to show you off like you are my property, even if this is actually expected from humans attending the party.”

He made a point of stressing the word “humans”.

Asmo opened his mouth to say something (probably to point out his other pretty features besides his face, Solomon thought), but something must have clicked (or so Solomon hoped), and he went silent for a full half second, which was actually a lot for him. Then, Asmo smiled brightly again.

“What’s wrong about showing me off? My dazzling beauty will enhance any party!”

Oh, right. Asmo’s extremely selective hearing. Again. What else was he hoping for? Now Solomon was quite sure that the half second delay was his imagination.

“Okay then, you relax and I’m gonna work a bit more,” Solomon stood up, reluctantly untangling his fingers from Asmo’s curls. He went back to the bedroom, quickly conjuring up a spell to dry his suit, and stretched out across the bed again, opening the laptop. In the corner of his eye, Solomon could see Asmo playing with bath products, sometimes glancing at him seductively. Some things never change, do they?

***

Not that the party was boring. Just... not exactly the exciting kind.

Foreseeably so.

“We are not here for fun,” Solomon had to remind himself every once in a while, moving from one group of witches and wizards to another, greeting acquaintances, establishing new contacts and engaging in conversations. Of course, no sane person would allow themselves to gossip openly, even if drunk, but Solomon’s keen hearing, observational skills and attention to details allowed him to grasp quite a bit more than they expected him to.

Also, new contacts. They were extremely valuable assets. The more coven witches notice and remember him, the better — it was one of those additional objectives Solomon had set for himself before. No, of course, he was not so naive as to think that having some champagne with one of them, making small talk about weather with another and discussing hellhound training with third would be enough to be invited into the inner circle, meet the Matron and get a chance to dig into coven’s library, no. But... dropping a right bait in the right time and the right place, just crumbles of information which would theoretically be interesting for this particular coven... There was a chance to lure them out, and he was going to play his cards without haste and with extreme caution to maximize this chance.

In fact, he had brought not one, but several equally appealing baits.

And where was one of them, by the way?

He found Asmo not far from a podium where a karaoke contest was apparently taking place. Four demons of different ranks were clowning on the podium, howling and mewling into microphones, and another group of four was sitting on the edge discussing their performance, probably waiting for their turn: Asmo in his demonic form, a witch who seemed familiar but whose name Solomon could not remember on the spot and two demons clearly belonging (Solomon hated the word but did not find any better to describe what he saw) to her.

The witch (oh, right — Sabrina was her name, Solomon finally remembered) was lying across Asmo’s lap, and he was cradling her head, caressing her blonde locks with one hand. Her two demons, both of quite mediocre rank, were humanoid enough to wear clothing (if those bits and pieces of fabric were to be called clothes, of course) made of the same fabric as Sabrina’s dress. A livery of sorts, Solomon guessed. Well, everyone plays with their toys to their own desire, why not dress-up, after all?

Sabrina’s demons were seated on the floor rather than on the podium edge. One of them was larger and bulkier; the other was smaller and furry, resembling either a cat or a lemur, or a similar animal. He was holding a vase full of cherries, and Asmo frequently reached out to puck a cherry and feed it to Sabrina, the larger demon or to himself — in a slow, alluring, tempting way. The smaller demon sometimes got his share too: Asmo just threw cherries at him to catch, and so he did, with such catlike agility that the vase stayed perfectly steady.

Solomon briefly wondered where to they were spitting out the seeds. If there is cherry, there are bound to be seeds! However, this question was not exactly appropriate and hardly mattered at all. What actually mattered was... ugh. Solomon actually found himself at a loss of words. Again.

Well, he told Asmo to go and have fun, didn’t he? Surely Solomon knew what to expect from the Avatar of Lust himself at an event like this, with such an audience.

But something just felt off.

So off.

... and the feeling was not a mere jealousy, as Solomon realized, to his own surprise.

At first glance, Asmo seemed to be in his element. A cute witch and two (probably cute, just not really Solomon’s type) demons basking is Asmo’s cheerful charm and his warm aura of carefree, lighthearted flirt — what could have been a more natural sight? However, keen observation revealed a subdued tension between the four. There were subtle microgestures, slightly shifty gazes, barely noticeable body language...

Asmo was wasting his time with those three, Solomon realized, having summed up the details. This affair was not going anywhere, and no one was really comfortable with the situation. Still, for whatever reason, Asmo continued putting up a good front. But why? And why wasn’t he using his powers? As a powerful Lust demon, he could have them charmed, captivated, trapped as soon as they took one look into his eyes. As far as Solomon remembered, Asmo was also gifted with a whole set of weird abilities, like telling whom the person had kissed before by sharing a kiss with them. Solomon briefly wondered if this worked with other kinds of intimate... activities.

Should he intervene now and save Asmo from this company? Or was it just his imagination, and the demon was actually having his much sought after fun?

Solomon did not know.

He walked back and forth around the podium, pretending to be intrigued by the karaoke performance and trying to get Asmo to notice him to no avail: the demon was too busy, leaning towards Sabrina, whispering to her, hair obscuring his eyes.

Hanging around them without raising suspicion became too hard now, and Solomon returned to his original mission plan, casually joining another group of partying wizards.

After all, he did not come here for fun.

***

Within the next hour, Solomon observed Asmo interacting (read: flirting) with at least five different witches, wizards and demons, sometimes one-on-one, sometimes in a group. And with each and every encounter Solomon witnessed something just resonated more and more wrong with him.

In order to become a fine sorcerer, one must learn to trust their intuition. And Solomon was not just a fine sorcerer. He was the only one of his generation to officially reach the rank of Great.

Which was why he finally decided to act against their agreement.

This time, he found Asmo sitting in some demon’s lap, looking rather cheerful, his wings fluttering, his cheeks rosy pink and his eyes gleaming in the dim light. The lacing on the demon’s chest had already been undone, and Asmo’s nimble fingers were exploring his muscular torso, searching for delicate spots.

“Okay, if he chooses to think I’m just jealous, so be it,” Solomon thought to himself. “And if he gets mad at me... fine, let him be mad, it’s only fair.”

“But we had a deal!” Asmo whined as Solomon yanked him off the demon, muttering apologies through gritted teeth. Solomon wanted to take him to a quiet corner but, to his surprise, the demon was drunk — not just drunk, but completely wasted. Solomon could not really remember if he had ever seen Asmo in such condition despite thousands of years of partying together. Maybe the atypical absence of Lucifer’s watchful eye had played a role here...

Fine. No, not really fine, but still kind of fine. Change of plan. He could still accomplish his tasks.

Good thing the club reserved for the party was in the same building complex as their hotel. No Lucifer around, even better.

“Asmo, we have to leave right now,” Solomon desperately hoped his voice did not sound too angry. “We really do.”

Asmo pouted, digging his heels into the floor. Normally, Solomon’s physical strength would never be enough to move him if the demon did not want to be moved, but in his current condition Asmo was not really able to stand upright and keep his balance without leaning on Solomon’s arm. Unfortunately, this also meant that steering him in any specific direction was incredibly difficult. Also, apparently Asmo had finally gathered his thoughts and was about to voice his objections very loudly and indignantly.

“No, please, let’s not make a scene,” Solomon said hastily. “Surely you remember that we did not come here to have fun...”

“It’s you who did not! And I did! That’s why you brought me here — to have fun!”

Solomon thanked quietly in his mind all the angels in the Celestial Realm and all the demons in the Devildom for not having been stupid enough to tell Asmo more about his mission. It was on the brink of being jeopardized already, but having the entire party crowd hearing about his plans would be a failure of a scale he had not experienced in centuries.

“Asmo, please, I really don’t want to make you do this,” Solomon whispered into his ear, almost begging. “Just do as I say, okay? It will be alright.”

Usually Asmo didn’t mind Solomon’s occasional use of the power of their pact. Maybe precisely because the sorcerer never abused it too much. And right now was not the time for that.

“Please,” Solomon asked again, trying to look him in the eye. It proved surprisingly difficult with Asmo partially hanging on the sorcerer’s arm with his head hung low, hair over his face.

Finally, Solomon managed to meet Asmo’s gaze and felt his heart drop. Of course, he knew the demon would be distressed, but Asmo looked absolutely devastated. It was so weird, so unexpected, so wrong — to see him, usually cheerful and bright-eyed, in such a miserable condition. Solomon cursed his hesitation — screw it, he knew something was wrong, he should have acted sooner!

“I’m-I’m not going anywhere. I’m having fun,” Asmo protested weakly, allowing Solomon to lead him towards the exit. “See, I’m fine. Al-almost. I’ll get them. I’ll get all of them, and this one, and...”

Yeah, totally fine. About as fine as Solomon’s mission. This thought somehow turned out far less sarcastic than Solomon anticipated.

Nobody would ever believe him if he said he had to haul a dead drunk and completely helpless Avatar of a primal sin around, half-carrying and half-pulling him like a flour sack. A demon so powerful he could kill an ordinary human with a finger snap, wipe the floor with a squad of battlemages without breaking a sweat or start a war without even noticing (which actually happened at least once). Or something like that.

Once they were in the elevator, Asmo finally stopped trying to convince Solomon that he was about to have his way with all of those people at once and would definitely succeed in doing so once they’d returned to the club, and fell silent. Walking down the corridor to their room must have taken all of his remaining strength, so Solomon had to push him inside once the door was open.

Asmo fell onto his knees, whimpering in defeat. Naturally, Solomon had already witnessed Asmo crying or throwing a tantrum over a million of little things, on a hundred of different occasions, but this was different. Never ever had he seen his sweet and joyful demon in such despair. Solomon bit his lip, not knowing how to react, how to help, how to protect one of his seventy-two — no, his one and only Asmo from these devastating feelings.

“It-it didn’t w-work,” Asmo managed to say between sobs and weeps. “I looked into their eyes. Each of t-them! But n-not even one...”

“Your charm ability did not work on them?” Solomon was genuinely surprised.

Asmo shook his head, still burying his face in his hands.

Now this was indeed fascinating. Sure, individuals blessed with a natural resistance had occurred before, but their percentage in a general population was negligibly small. Typically in such case Asmo would quit his attempts and start courting another person, no hard feelings. That’s probably what he tried to do this time.

But gathering so many charm-resistive people in one place would simply be impossible. Maybe the coven had installed a (probably technomagical, as they seemed to rely on a combination of magic and modern technology) protective spell of some kind? No, Solomon knew nothing of such spells, meaning they would have to develop it from scratch, requiring quite some time which the coven did not have since the moment Solomon had gotten his invitation and informed the coven which demon he was bringing along. Oh, wait, maybe it was the coven’s own innate quirk? No, negative again: there were witches and wizards of other organizations, not to mention demons, and Asmo probably flirted with everyone, not distinguishing guests from hosts. Maybe each of his failed partners had their own different charm resistances by a wild, unbelievable coincidence?

This phenomena certainly called for a thorough investigation, but.

But.

But that could wait.

Solomon made an attempt to help Asmo get back on his feet. A completely unsuccessful attempt, it should be noted. Asmo did not even try to gather his strength; he must have had none left.

“Listen, I can’t carry you, I am not as strong as you demons,” Solomon pleaded. “I’m sorry for this, but you gotta try to get up.”

The second attempt was a bit better, and Solomon was able to lead Asmo to the bathroom, plopping him down onto a nice fluffy rug. The comfort of a luxury hotel surely had its advantages.

“Okay, here’s an unpleasant question,” Solomon knew Asmo was going to hate this idea. “Do you know how to trigger the gag reflex with your fingers?”

Of course, he hated it. If Asmo could, he would probably die of disgust on the spot. The look he gave Solomon was expressive enough to tell. In any other circumstances it might even have been funny.

“Just do it. You’ll feel much better.”

Asmo glanced at him through his hair, now messy and tangled. And this wasn’t funny at all; this was utterly, alarmingly wrong, yet somehow — Solomon struggled to find the definition and was honestly surprised to realize — endearing. Seeing Asmo broken and vulnerable invoked new feelings somewhere inside of him — no, not really new — they were always here, waiting to be crystallized into words and finally acknowledged.

“Come on, it’s not that hard,” Solomon continued to coax him gently, reaching out to stroke Asmo’s hair. “It’s alright, you won’t damage your nails, and even if you do, we can get them done again, even better than before...”

Asmo whined in protest.

“Listen, Asmo, I don’t want to make you do this with our pact.” Then Solomon suddenly guessed, “Is it because of me? Because I am here?”

Asmo nodded tearfully and sobbed again.

“Okay, I’ll look that way,” Solomon continued with a sigh. “But listen, you hair is long enough to reach your mouth but too short to stay tucked behind your ears — someone gotta hold it for you, right?”

“And hold you so you won’t smash your face against the toilet, giving your brothers something to gossip about for the nearest eternity,” he thought to himself without saying this out loud.

True to his word, Solomon turned his head away, but just enough to still see Asmo with his peripheral vision. After all, he said he would look that way, not that he wouldn’t look this way at all. Gotta choose your words carefully when you are dealing with demons.

Anyway, Asmo had no strength to resist or to argue.

“Feeling better now?” Solomon asked sympathetically when Asmo was done throwing up, getting a faint affirmative sound in reply, so painful that Solomon nearly choked on his breath.

“Okay, good, let’s go wash your face now, it will stop stinging,” he said softly before Asmo curled into a ball, burying his face in his knees. Solomon suddenly found himself hugging the demon impulsively, whispering frantically words of affection, encouragement, acceptance, like “Everyone has a bad day every once in a while,” or “I’m here, it’s alright now, I’m right here for you,” — all useless, all meaningless now as Asmo cried bitterly, alone in his despair, cried so hard his whole body was shaking violently.

“He will stop sooner or later. Crying takes energy and he doesn’t have much of it,” the rational part of Solomon’s mind reasoned while he was holding Asmo tight, gently rocking him back and forth, stroking his hair as Asmo’s shaky breath was slowly steadying.

Finally, squeamishness prevailed over self-pity, and Asmo dragged himself to the sink to wash his face without raising his head, still looking extremely miserable. Was he still afraid?

“Come on, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Solomon said, taking a towel off a holder. He felt an urge to wipe Asmo’s face as if with a child instead of simply giving him the towel, but suppressed it, as this would probably be too humiliating, and Asmo certainly did not need any more of that.

“Solomon,” Asmo called to him in a broken, raspy voice, so much unlike his usual playful tone. No eye contact, either. “Are you really... not disgusted?”

“Oh, come on,” Solomon felt a lump in his throat, and he didn’t know that many sweet and caring words, and he had already used all of them and was afraid to repeat himself as that might sound stupid, repeating same and same sentences again and again, and... He just opened his arms, and Asmo finally did not back away, clinging to him instead, burying his face against Solomon’s shoulder, still trembling and breathing unevenly, but not crying anymore.

It seemed like Asmo was back to normal. At least, when Solomon tucked him into bed, Asmo started whining in his usual playfully capricious tone, complaining about being too drunk to take off his clothes. And everyone knew he slept naked, and this was a rule, and rules were not to be broken!

Fine. Cursing under his breath, Solomon unbuckled the clasps on Asmo’s right leg. The demon’s cunning smile and sly glances from under his fluttering eyelashes made him suspect this was not really necessary for taking Asmo’s pants off, but as Solomon had already started, he decided to continue anyway.

“Naked means fully naked,” Asmo said in the same fussy tone, as if Solomon did not know that.

But he really did not want this interaction to become erotic. In fact, he could not imagine doing anything even remotely erotic with a person so heavily inebriated (and so visibly shaken emotionally).

Well, Asmo’s underwear was indeed not suitable for sleep. In fact, Solomon doubted this was even suitable for everyday life. These narrow straps must have been digging into Asmo’s skin quite painfully, Solomon thought as he carefully hooked the demon’s underwear with the tips of his fingers. Asmo giggled playfully and eagerly raised his hips, seemingly only so Solomon could take off those uncomfortable panties, but...

“I know what you mean, but not now, sorry,” Solomon said firmly, covering Asmo with a blanket up to his very neck. “Try to have some sleep.”

Asmo pouted.

“Nuh-uh, lie still,” Solomon said, putting on a strict face and even wagging his finger a bit.

“Or what?” Asmo asked, giggling again. “Will you punish me?”

Solomon did not fall for this trick, putting forward another proposal instead: how about behaving now for a reward later? They bargained a bit, finally reaching a consensus: reward first, obedience then, and the reward would be a kiss, but a chaste kiss, but on the lips.

“Come ooon,” Asmo pouted again as Solomon pulled away, having barely touched his slightly open mouth with his own closed lips.

“A deal is a deal,” Solomon reminded him with a smile. “Sleep now.”

“Yeah, and you go back,” Asmo reluctantly agreed, freeing one oh his hands from under the blanket and interlocking his fingers with Solomon’s.

“Don’t go,” this gesture meant. Solomon knew.

But he had to.

Sorry, Asmo.

“Sorry,” Solomon said softly, letting go of he demon’s hand. He suddenly felt like kissing Asmo’s little finger right above the glossy green nail. “You are the best,” he kissed Asmo’s ring finger then, with its shiny pink nail, “The most wonderful,” the middle finger followed suit, “The prettiest,” then the index finger, and finally, “You are very special to me,” Solomon muttered as he kissed Asmo’s thumb. As cheeky as ever, the demon was quick to pull his other hand from underneath the blanket, almost pushing it into Solomon's hands to repeat the sequence, and so the sorcerer did.

“So, you sleep while I’m gonna work some more,” Solomon concluded, letting go of Asmo’s hands. The demon pressed his fingers to his cheeks, slightly blushing and giggling happily. Solomon finally made himself stand up from the bed he was sitting on and take a step towards the door.

“Rest well. Is it really okay if I go to them?” he asked just in case, having already reached out for the light switch.

Asmo nodded a little and added after a momentary delay, voice sleepy and peacefully calm: “Have fun for the both of us.”


End file.
